


u r a part of me

by orphan_account



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Running Away, Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 05:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20576954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Unwinding, the right choice. For you, your child, society and for the future, it says, and mark scoffs as he turns the page.fuck your future.he isnt really reading it, because the date for his unwind is tomorrow, and this is his last day.the last day, of his life.it's a pity that he has to complete his shift despite the fact that he's dying tomorrow.





	u r a part of me

**Author's Note:**

> based on the unwind dystology by neal shusterman.  
(the first para explains it a bit u dont need to read the series to know whats happening)

**after a civil war fought over abortion, a compromise is reached; right around that time, someone wins a noble prize- groundbreaking advancements for organ transplants and donations are made, and suddenly there's a solution to the crisis in sight- allowing parents to sign an unwind order for their children aging 13-18 to be sent to harvest camps, where 99.44% of their body is dissected into their body parts for later use. unwinds do not supposedly die, because their body parts live on.**

..

_what would have been happening in an alternate universe?_

the air con would be still working. the bike sitting outside the front door wouldn't have fallen to the ground with a screechy clatter like it always did- and mark never cared. that old woman with a crooked back and wrinkly hands, who comes inside at _exactly_ 7:34am everyday would have come in at 7:33am instead, and bought the _cherry_ flavoured lollipops for her grandchildren instead of _cola_ flavoured ones. maybe her grandchildren would still be alive. 

_in one piece, _mark thinks. 

mark would have felt sorry for her, but then one day she walks into the shop with an uncrooked back and a green eye unnaturally paired with her black one. mark's only seen her grandchildren once- a summer a few years back. he doesn't remember their face, but he does remember their eyes.

fluttering with life and sweet youth and _green._

he doesn't say anything, of course. no one ever does. but deep down, everyone notices the changes. hard, cold and _real_.

but, maybe she'd never come in at all- and doyoung would've never decided to put in a few candies behind the counter since not alot of people cared for antiques anymore. 

maybe the stupid, worn out, fifty-centuries old brown sofa sitting under the crates at the end of the shop would finally be noticed- and sold. or maybe it wouldn't be, and it'd just be stupid, worn out, fifty-century old and _blue_. 

maybe mark wouldn't be sitting here either- he'd be in the basketball team, and right about at this time he'd be shooting hoops and be friends with people like jaehyun and wink at swooning girls on the bleachers despite the fact that classes ended an hour ago and be popular and loved, by everyone. and, his parents. 

and maybe mark's parents wouldn't have signed the unwind order. or mark wouldn't have ever found it, and the juvie cops would surprise him tomorrow- and mark would've felt that rush of emotion and hurt and _betrayal_ right infront of his parent's eyes. it would've been better that way, mark thinks. but then again, what difference did it really make? 

..

mark finds the unwind slip tucked away in the yellowing pages of one of his father's oldest novels. the first thing he thinks is- _I've read this very novel, like, thrice. this is ridiculous. they wouldn't do that. he wouldn't do that._

but he did. and then is the realization- the regret, and pain and alarm- he remembers every potential mistake. he suddenly becomes hyper-aware of his declining grades and lack of social life and all the anger tantrums he's thrown infront of his parents since he was _fucking 6._

he could run away, but he's never heard of a successful runaway unwind. every runaway unwind dies. every unwind dies. it doesn't make a difference. 

and then, in another 5 minutes, comes the acceptance- something mark had been far too familiar with. and so mark does what he's always done. 

he let it be. 

with shaky fingers, he puts the piece of paper back into the book- his eyes running over the _mark lee_ written in bold letters one last time. 

_i deserve this_, he thinks. 

and that is that. 

and after that, is a game of pretend. and he isn't the only one playing, ofcourse. 

he fights back the tears he feels in his eyes when he watches his father smile at him across the dinner table and when his mother ruffles his hair as she walks by. 

_they never did this before._

_they were never this nice._

it isn't long- almost a few days- before this sadness prevails to anger. the anger is silent, barely there. but it is there. innocent, and deadly. 

he smiles back at his father across the dinner table now, hugs his mother before he leaves for school. he sits with them in the living room after doing homework and cracks jokes- and he never misses the range of emotions that crosses his parents' faces. 

the disbelief- because it's been _years_ since he's been this open with his parents- and then the regret. the way his father's eyes glisten with tears when mark fixes his bike himself and looks at his father proudly, and the way his mother's shoulders shake as she cries secretly at 2am, leaning against the kitchen counter as she reads the sticky note held between her fingers, over and over, that mark stuck on the fridge earlier that day- 

_i love you,_ mom, it says. 

it's a lie. 

because that inevitably clear regret, and shame that ripples across their face- is sweet. it's what he lives for. however long that is. 

..

so, he's sitting behind the counter, flipping through a magazine. 

_Unwinding, the right choice. For you, your child, society and for the future_, it says, and mark scoffs as he turns the page. 

_fuck your future._

he isnt really reading it, because the date for his unwind is tomorrow, and this is his last day. 

the last day, of his life. 

it's a pity that he has to complete his shift despite the fact that he's dying tomorrow, but he can't let his parents know he knows either. 

it's hot and sweat builds up on the middle of his back and the weather outside really isn't helping, either. warmth seeps in through the window next to him, and the afternoon rays of the sun spill into the shop lazily. mark sets down the magazine and rests his chin onto his hand, watching the street outside. it's empty and quiet- the town always has been. he can see the dust particles in the rays of the sun entering the shop and dancing about like stars. somewhere near, a bird lets out a cheery chirp. 

mark's thinking about the unwind slip again, and if he thinks about it long enough, he'll be convinced it was a dream. that he'd wake up tomorrow and go through his day and go back to sleep- like always. 

but its different this time. he's going to be unwound tomorrow. the unwind order is real. in the seventeen years of his life he hasn't seen anything more real. 

or so, he thought. 

there's a jingle of a bell and then the front door opens slowly, shaking mark up from his languid state. his eyebrow is raised slightly, because he wasn't expecting any regulars until later in the evening. 

a kid walks in. he's barely mark's age, maybe younger. his hand rests on the door handle as he opens it, and his chest is heaving in and out like he had ran here. there's something else that mark can't really put a finger on- a familiarity. he's attractive that is- there's sweat shining on his tanned cheeks and on his forehead. his legs are long and slim. there's a mop of wild brown hair atop his head that fall onto his forehead, barely covering his eyes and he's wearing a jacket despite the scorching heat outside. 

it all just adds into mark's curiosity, and mark sits up in his seat, peering from behind the cash register. 

mark can't make out his face, however. because the kid walks in and as soon as the door closes behind him, he rests his back onto it and drops onto the ground. 

mark is stunned, for a moment, because the boy is barely conscious and an unnatural red is seeping down his shirt and onto the floor. 

mark can feel the boy's gaze on him, and mark freezes- unsure of what to do. 

"don't call them. don't call the cops.," the boy murmurs, before his head rolls back and hits the wall, his eyes close. 

it's when he speaks, that mark realizes.

_lee donghyuck._

_the son of a juvie cop._

_the infamous kid who was taken to the harvest camp._

_by his own fucking father._

_5 fucking months ago._

..

in an alternate universe, that door never opens. mark sits there, until the yellow sunlight melts into reds and those into oranges and blues and until darkness- and he closes the shop and heads home. in an alternate universe, the last day of mark's life is this day- this day, which was like any other day. consistent, and dull. 

but in this universe, mark lives. it is this single, unpremeditated moment, that topples his life into an endless uncertainty, a run.


End file.
